


Found You

by OriginalCeenote



Series: To Antarctica and Back [2]
Category: X-Men (comicsverse)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kiss and Cry, Logan is a Big Softie, M/M, Reunion Sex, Storm is the Best Pickpocket in Cairo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "We Wuz Playin' Hide an' Seek." Reposted from adultfanfiction.org.</p><p>LoMy. Remy returns from his sojourn following Rogue’s abandoning him in Antarctica. His homecoming is unexpected, but not as unwelcome as he feared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are awful. Both of these stories. I didn't know how to revise either of them to make them less tedious or bogged down with heavy metaphors and overly detailed exposition. So, why reinvent the wheel when you can just patch that shit and let it roll?
> 
> Or, the story where Ororo tells Gambit to get his goofy butt home...

The cover of night was his friend. Remy trusted the moon and the stars never to fail him. He’d learned long ago that he couldn’t trust anyone else, even though he was relying on the occupants of the expansive house to do just that for him, once more.

It was daunting, and risky.

His letter to his Stormy had been clipped and brief. _Coming back, if you’ll have me. Say the word, though, and I stay gone. Miss you. And I’m sorry._ He left his post office box address on the missive and suggested a time when he could call her at the house, when no one would be able to overhear.

She didn’t completely surprise him when she found him instead and showed up on his doorstep. In the middle of the night, no less, like a sneaky thief. One more reason why he loved her so much.

He woke up that night to her husky chuckle.

 

*

“You need better locks, my friend,” she murmured. The faint scent of jasmine permeated his tiny rented studio, thanks to a small bundle of them that she brought inside with her and laid on his shabby table.

“Whozzat…merde. Wha’ time is it?” he muttered. He rubbed the sleep from his red-on-black eyes and watched her swim into view. Joy replaced annoyance and he bolted up in bed, grabbing her wrist. “STORMY! Padnat! Y’here!” She didn’t resist when he tugged her to him, practically crushing her against his chest.

“Oof,” she protested lightly, but she returned his hug, sharing her warmth and affection. He was starved for it. Ororo sighed, cuddling him for a few moments while they both got their bearings. All he could feel was Ororo’s emotions, flooding him like a tidal wave. Concern, coupled with relief and joy that he was all right. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair, allowing himself to just _feel._

“Wuz afraid y’hated me, padnat.”

“Never. Ever. I was angry.” There was still a trace of it drifting along their empathic link, but it was tempered with patience. Thinly stretched, but patience, nonetheless.

“And?”

“I got over it.”

“Did a bad t’ing, sweetness. Did a whole buncha bad t’ings.”

“So have I, brother.”

“I hurt. S’all I do now. I jes’ _hurt_.”

“I know.”

“Can’t take back what I did, padnat.”

“No. All you can do is face it, and own it, my friend.” She moved to rocking him gently and stroking his long, lean back soothingly. 

“Can’t. Can’t face ‘em all.”

“I’m here, and the world hasn’t ended, has it? Look at me, brother.” She drew back from him, but his arms wouldn’t let her go until she became more insistent, leaning her forehead against his. They were so close that they nearly shared breath, and her eyes probed his. “If you don’t face us now, you never will. These things break us, Remy. They tear us apart bit by bit. This kind of guilt. You know how I know. I’m as much as fault as you.”

“Stormy…” he argued, swallowing a lump and fighting the hot tears pricking at the back of his eyes that threatened to show themselves from the moment he heard her voice. “Ya didn’ have any t’in t’do wit’ what happened in de tunnels!” His palm cradled her cheek, and she leaned into his touch fondly. She shook her head, making her snowy hair rustle over her shoulders.

“Oh, but I did,” she pointed out. “If I had been there where I belonged from the start, leading them, helping them, they may have made it out. They were my people to protect. When they needed me, I was nowhere to be found.” Guilt colored his connection to her, and he hung his head, realizing how deeply it was shared.

“Wuz picked fo’ de job ‘cuz I can work my way in anywhere. Y’wouldn’ have found me. Wouldn’ have stopped me, chere.”

“Braggart.”

“Ain’ braggin’. Woulda happened even if Stormy were dere, cuz I wuz just de guide. De eyes an’ ears.” Her eyes were mournful. He released her slowly, and she took his hands instead, stroking his fingers.

“You met me when I was helpless.”

“Bet y’regret it now, eh?”

“ _Non._ ” The corner of her mouth curled, and her eyes held that familiar twinkle.

“Can’t go back, padnat.”

“Never tell me that you can’t, when we both know that you mean you won’t.” She watched him thoughtfully. Moonlight and the dim illumination from street signs outside settled on her signature platinum hair and was reflected in her azure eyes. “I spoke with Logan.” Remy stiffened and his heart briefly stopped. He felt clammy and lightheaded.

“ _Dieu!_ What’d he say? How was he…damn it, chere, what’d he SAY?” He hated the desperation in his voice, but the voices in his head screamed for the answer.

_Logan. Merde!_

“Only that he found you. And that you didn’t want to be found.”

“Didn’ stop ya none,” he muttered.

“You couldn’t if you tried,” she replied cheerfully, patting his cheek and kissing him by the corner of his mouth. “You’re alive. That’s all that I took from our conversation. And from your letter.”

“Wolvie acted like he wanted ta finish de job Rogue started, chere. She ain’ gon’ wan’ Remy t’darken her doorstep.” Remy finally pulled his hands away from hers and leaned back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees. He closed his eyes in defeat, hiding their ruby brilliance from her as he gathered his thoughts. “Didn’ go well ‘tween me an’ Logan. Gotta unnerstan’ dat befo’ y’ask me ta come back, padnat. Might end up dat de whole house feels dat way ‘bout Remy comin’ back.”

“Remy…Logan wants you to come back.” His eyes snapped open and followed her across the room as she perused his meager things.

“Non…don’ lie t’Remy, petit! Logan don’ wan’ nuthin’ t’do wi’ me. Remy knows betta den t’believe dat.” To her consternation, his hands shook as he plowed them through hopelessly tousled dark hair.

“I would never lie to you,” she said quietly. “You know that.” And he did. Shame prickled over his flesh, the unspoken sentiment lying between them: _But you lied to me._ She wouldn’t pay him back in kind. “You have unfinished business, _mon frere,_ so I suggest you plan an itinerary.”

“Gon’ take a while t’gather togetha’ de funds t’come back.”

“Foolish boy,” she chided him as she reached into her long, black leather duster and extracted something, chucking it onto the table. “You know I never show up without bearing gifts. No excuses.”

“But…”

“No buts.” She gave him a sad smile. “Just bring yours back to the mansion.” She glanced around his shabby accommodations and sighed. “Don’t hide in the dark forever, Remy.”

“Dey hate me.”

“Only because they loved you so much. And you never forget that you loved someone. The feelings never truly leave.” She returned to the edge of the bed, standing tall, regal and beautiful. He felt the soft, fleeting caress of her finger sliding over his stubbled cheek. Her emotions wrapped around him comfortingly with the touch. He wanted to cling to it, but true to form, she locked him out before he could take too great a liberty. No one took the Goddess for granted; this much, he knew. Ororo, like Logan, took the matter of sharing her thoughts with telepaths very, very seriously, and delicately. “Keep in touch.” She strode out on whisper-soft footsteps, baiting him with the impressions she possessed like a carrot before a donkey.

He didn’t pick up the roll of bills from the table until she was long gone.

 

*

Some old habits died hard. Remy didn’t even attempt his old access code at the front gate, choosing to leap over the gate. He charged the remainder of his cigarette and flicked it at the lens of the security cam. It squawked and sizzled following the loud crack of impact. He still had that touch…

He surveyed the lawn and courtyard, letting his memory guide him as to where the sensors were in the lawn. Nimbly he skipped, hopped and flipped over each one, evading the laser-guided scanners and resulting alarms. Remy chanced whistling a tune as he made his way to the west wing of the mansion.

He bypassed the familiar window that led to Rogue’s suite; her light was off, but he did hear the faint strains of her compact disc player that she sometimes used to fall asleep by. She was wearing out her old Stevie Ray Vaughn collection, as usual. For some reason, that made him smile.

His slight pleasure faded as he read a hint of turbulent emotion from her. Frustration, sadness and anger, tinged with guilt made him gulp back bile.

 _He’d_ caused that.

It hit him in that instant that he wasn’t ready. Stormy was wrong, after all. 

He felt cold, shivering slightly at the faint chill in the air that penetrated his heavy duster. Remy sank down to his haunches and closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed.

_He hated the snow, and there was miles of it in every direction. Barren. Lonely. Dark. She knocked the wind out of him and left him in a place where he could see his breath and only had his own voice for company. All alone. No feelings._

_No feelings!_

_Don’t go!_

_DON’T GO!_

He plowed his hands through his tangled hair, struggling for air. Panic filled him and curdled his stomach…he couldn’t let it up and swallowed back his gorge in great, gulping breaths.

All he could see was Rogue’s retreating back, watching her become a tiny dot in the sky.

He pushed it back, almost recovering himself.

That was replaced by the memory of Logan, lying sated and tangled in the covers on the shabby fold-out couch, still smelling like sleep and basking in peace. _He’d abandoned him and skipped out. Left him alone…_

Remy gave up the fight and cast up his accounts onto the dewy grass, heaving miserably until he his flesh was clammy and his throat grew raw.

He finally mastered himself and spat out the foulness in his mouth. He made his way toward the balcony he was looking for and flung his light duffle over the rail with a strong heave.

His staff felt cool in his hand as he unsheathed it and snapped it open, admiring its sheen under the moonlight. He planted it against the ground and guided his body in a neat arc, vaulting over the rail and landing light as a cat on his feet. He retrieved the duffle and, out of courtesy, wiped his boots before picking the lock on the patio door.

The faint scents of jasmine, lavender and sandalwood permeated Ororo’s loft, greeting him as he closed the doors behind him with a nearly silent click. Ororo was in the middle of a shallow sleep; she was still a true thief, keeping “one eye open” for threats in the night.

“Took you long enough,” she mumbled groggily.

“Hey, padnat.”

“Hullo, Remy.” She blinked up at him, and her face was slightly puffy and relaxed as she drank in his haggard appearance. “Settle in. And make yourself at home in my shower.” She wrinkled her nose, pulling a face at his aroma. He huffed back a laugh.

“Unna’stood, Boss,” he replied casually as he dropped his duffle on a wicker chair near her adjoining bathroom. He stripped off his duster and laid it over the small, round table where he and Ororo often played cards. She hadn’t beaten him at five-card stud yet.

His clothing held the odors of travel and two days of lean living in the meantime. He’d covered his tracks, abandoning his studio and leaving the month’s rent under the landlady’s door with a note; after he’d charmed her, she’d rented it to him under the table, no applications processed, no questions asked. He left just as easily. He left the keys with her and told her to take what she wanted of his belongings, since he preferred to travel light. Now, he left his clothes in a small heap atop the commode as he ran a shower hot enough to steam the room’s tiny window. He knew Ororo wouldn’t mind; she so seldom used the shower indoors, deeming it too claustrophobic and preferring warm summer rains enjoyed up on the roof.

The spray pelted his lean body, easing soreness from his muscles and warming his cool flesh. He sighed long and deep, letting the sound echo off the walls as he planted his palms against them and stared down at his toes. Water drizzled and poured in runnels through his hair, loosening the grit that accumulated there from sleeping – badly – against dirty bus seats. It was a baptism of sorts, rinsing away his sins, even if only on the surface.

He retrieved her bar of soap, not caring about its girlish scent, and he lathered it in his palms, slicking it over his shoulders and torso.

Logan’s hands on him flashed in his mind, slowly running a dried-up stub of soap over his pectorals and flat belly, and he slowed his own, taking time to knead his neglected flesh. Remy turned and tilted his head back into the spray, rinsing his hair. It didn’t match the satisfaction of thick, work-roughened fingers plowing through wet locks and massaging his scalp, scraping away the foam. Remy’s gut clenched with need and remorse.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” he whispered. “What’ve I done, chere? How could I do dat t’you?”

He increased the pressure of the shower massage, letting it beat against his back until it ran cold.

Remy spied the thick, soft towel Ororo kindly left folded on top of the toilet lid, thoughtfully removing his clothes and moving them to her hamper. He reached for it, giving his hair a rough scrub before wrapping it around his hips. He had no qualms about Ororo seeing him indisposed; she just didn’t see him that way, and his charm stopped at her front door. Each of them appreciated the other’s unique beauty, but it was “look, don’t touch.” That made things easy.

Her bed was empty; the sheets were still warm and bore the impressions of her lithe body in their folds, and a dent remained in her fluffy pillow.

He dug a pair of boxers and a light gray, ribbed undershirt from his duffle. Ororo’s loft was slightly cool since she didn’t need to turn up the thermostat to stay comfortable. He remade her bed and turned down the edge of the covers, fluffing her pillow after he saw the note on her bedside table beside the lamp: _Gone flying. Get settled. Hope you smell better now…_ Brat.

He eased himself into bed with a groan. Merde, it’d been so long…the mattress was yielding but still slightly firm, and the sheets smelled like her. Remy snuggled under the thick duvet and closed his eyes, which were so tired that it hurt to blink.

 _Logan._ Impressions of him flooded his mind and followed him into sleep.

 _One t’ing, mon ami. Remy sleeps in de buff…_ Those words echoed in his thoughts. He’d savored the look on the older man’s face, containing both shock and lust as he dropped his borrowed robe. His wantonness with the feral didn’t drive him off. He’d dared him to take what he wanted, and to take him, hard. Remy knew what he was doing; Logan never backed down from one of his dares before. Ever.

What surprised Remy was the complete abandon with which Logan opened himself to him, and the thoroughness of their coupling. Consuming. Satisfying. Complete. Remy shuddered and moaned in his sleep.

His dreams rolled along and gathered steam, pulling him through every relevant encounter he’d had with his teammate and wary friend. _Friend…_ could Remy even call him that anymore? Really?

Poker nights. Binges at Harry’s. Arguing over who got the last drumstick at dinner.

Shouldering each other inside the door on nights where they’d scarcely made it home, counting each other’s scars. Sessions in the Danger Room.

A random night when Logan confessed to him that he didn’t remember his own birthday. Their toast with whiskey when Remy admitted the same.

Another moan joined the first, this one plaintive and full of longing. It wasn’t the gentle whisper of a caress from Rogue’s gloved fingers that aroused his passion, but the sure, rougher, thorough stroke of Logan’s strong hands. He craved the low, husky growl escaping his firm, wide mouth. His skin was pulled too tightly over his body. Remy tossed and turned beneath the covers, restless and unable to find peace. He flipped onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, but the dreams and images still came.

Lust for the feral wrapped around him, flooding him hopelessly. He still smelled his musk, driving away the sweetness of Ororo’s flowers and the lingering scent of her soap in his hair. Remy longed for the rasp of coarse hair creating friction against his chest, his belly, his thighs…

“Need ya, homme. Need ya right now,” he muttered in his sleep. “Touch me, chere.” In his dreams, Logan complied, giving him a probing look before reaching for his mouth, stroking his lips with his fingertips. His mouth pursed in sleep; he tasted the slight saltiness of his skin as he drew the thick digit into his mouth and suckled it, moaning at the feel of wrapping his lips around any part of his lover, whichever one was nearest, as long as there was the promise of more.

His finger slid free and trailed his own damp heat along the column of his slender throat, teasing the cords of muscle and tendon, winding its way down the seam of his chest, between the divide of his gracefully narrow ribcage, teasing his navel in a sweet, lazy circle…Remy’s hips bucked, and he flung his arms over his head in pleasure at the electricity of his touch. Logan’s fingers feathered over his belly until he flattened his hot palm there, slowly kneading his way down to the dark thatch of coarse curls between his legs. He throbbed for him. Hard. Only for Logan.

Those deep, fathomless dark eyes challenged him. He beseeched him with one word: Please. His phantom lover nodded and acquiesced, combing his fingers through the wiry hair, lightly scraping the flesh beneath with his fingernails and making him jerk convulsively. _More. Please._ His hot, snug grip engulfed his shaft, sending Remy straight to a heaven he felt he’d never deserve. It was like finally coming home.

His features twisted and changed like quicksilver, one moment relaxed in rapture, the next choked in sudden passion and desperation. He reflexively opened his legs more widely in entreaty. _Closer. More._ Logan loomed over him larger than life, a towering pillar of power and masculine grace. A rough, sharp bite on the tender flesh of his inner knee made his legs cave wide open to allow him full access as he lowered his head. A short trail of nipping bites, marking each can of his six-pack with his heat and lips, found him breathing over his pulsing flesh. Anticipating. Waiting.

 _Please,_ Remy grated out in his slumber.

 _Tasting._ Logan’s mouth pulled at him, feasting on him so hungrily and with such rapture that he couldn’t draw breath.

 _M’sorry, chere…desole. Desole, mon ami! Neva wanted t’hurt ya. Left ya alone. Hate m’self fo’ leavin’ ya alone! Need ya. Need ya so much right now!_ His hips worked of their own accord, rutting into his mouth, pressing into that luscious heat as he flattened his tongue against the head of his cock. He lapped and suckled at him, making sounds of pleasure in his throat. Remy’s abdomen jumped and twitched. He couldn’t appreciate that Logan had found those expressions and sounds coming from him more beautiful and precious than anything else he’d ever known. All Remy knew, for certain, was that he was only like this _with him. For **him.**_

His phantom lover released him too soon, sliding his mouth from his weeping cock. _No! STAY_ Remy struggled up, groping at him before he could fade away. Logan watched him with a questioning look that seemed to mock him.

He opened those beautifully masculine lips and whispered _I ain’t done yet, Cajun._ He flattened his hands and ran them over him, treasuring his taut flesh as he crouched before him, kneeling between his legs, which were already spread impossibly wide. Remy “oophed” as his thighs were jerked up, and Logan pulled him into himself, hooking his knees over wide shoulders bulging with hard muscle. His grip was sure and insistent while he jerked him closer, abrading his back with the covers beneath him, lifting him until his ass laid just over Logan’s cock. _Thought I was finished already?_

Helplessly, Remy shook his head, eager for him to continue. Logan’s answering smile was wicked.

 _Maybe next time ya’ll think twice about leavin’ eh?_ He enveloped Remy’s silky cock in his fist again, squeezing and jerking him until drops of pre-cum leaked from the tip. His fingertips dug into Remy’s thigh as he worked him, eyeing his body with want and need. Remy moaned and cried out, moving his hips against him, nearly in agony from the burning pleasure and delayed gratification. He begged him in broken French and abbreviated English to end his torment; for all he knew, he could have been praying in the tongues of the angels, if only his lover would…

Thick, burning pressure invaded his vulnerable crevice as Logan probed him slowly, using only the tip of his cock to prime him. Pain mingled with pleasure made Remy’s mouth drop open, drawling curses and words of love…

 _Love. Non._ Not now. Not yet…

Guilt and terror quickened his pulse and made his fingers and toes feel like ice. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when they had so much to say, so many things to work out…

He’d hate him. Logan would tear him apart if he thought he came back pleading to him, if he claimed that he loved him _now._

It was too late. He was already lost on a tide of passion and fulfillment when Logan entered him, filling and stretching him to accommodate his bulk before he backed out and thrust. Remy’s toes curled while Logan growled in approval at the snug fit of his sheath.

_Chere…_

_Feel me, Rem. Feel all of it. All o’ what I hafta give._

_Chere…please!_

_Ya left all this behind. Bet ya wish ya hadn’t. I know I wish ya hadn’t. Wouldn’t a had all those lonely nights…_

_God, chere, don’t stop!_

_In the cold. All alone in the dark. No one ta hold ya, take make ya feel like I made ya feel…_

_Someone ta make ya feel…_

Remy’s dick cramped and throbbed; his flesh was swollen and rosy, erect and feeling plump in Logan’s unyielding, knowing grip. His cock slammed into him, shunting in and out of his ass in a rhythm that had him in ecstasy, making his sac draw up tight. His nipples pebbled into hard little pearls when Logan’s free hand grazed one of them to enjoy his reaction. His body shook with the motion of Logan’s body, fluid and beautiful, and he felt tremors building inside him that wouldn’t rest until he reached completion. Remy’s flesh tingled as Logan tormented him.

_No one makes me feel like y’make me feel! Nobody, y’hear? Ever. Need ya so much. S’cold an’ dark inside of me, chere. M’all alone. Come t’me. Please!_

_I ain’t the one who left, Rem._ Logan’s voice hissed out through his pants, attempting to speak between thrusts. _If ya want me…ya can’t hide from me. Ya ain’t gonna prove that ya care fer me if ya just run away. Been alone long enough, you an’ me both, Rem._ Logan’s face was strained, and Remy read hurt in his eyes that broke through the passion there. He felt Logan’s need, his own pleading for honesty and the promise that he’d take good care of his heart.

Remy reached that fever pitch, that moment of can’t-go-back as his climax waxed and stirred. _Coming…aw, God, chere…gonna come, gonna come, feels so right…DIEU! Don’ stop, chere! Don’ stop_ Logan’s hand and his hips tugged, thrust and rolled over him, through him, wrenching long, rusty cries from him as he came. He writhed and jerked back into the pillow, clutching handfuls of it around the sides of his head. The cords of tendon in his throat were drawn tight, and his clenched teeth were exposed as his lips peeled back to free the emotions that wouldn’t stay silent. Remy was through with silence. He dimly felt the molten spatters of semen lace his abdomen as Logan milked him, letting his juices lubricate those final tugs. He gave up his essence willingly for the feral’s assessment.

Logan expressed his enjoyment of him with a long, slow taste of his fingers, coated with the by-product of his pleasure, right before he took his thrusts to a crescendo. He pistoned and rutted harder, faster, nearly overwhelming him until he, too, roared out in the dark. Remy felt his cock stiffen and jerk as his fluids filled him with lush heat. Logan’s body whipped and arched, letting the sensations ripple through him like a wave. He clutched Remy’s quivering thighs through it, whispering fervent prayers and curses that damn it, Rem, he felt so damned good…

When Remy woke up, a muted shout broke from his lips.

Cold air bathed his belly from where his shirt rode up and the covers were kicked free. His hips jerked in response to his hand, still firmly wrapped around his cock.

What the hell?

He groaned weakly, spent, as he gently shook off the accumulated, slick stickiness from his fingers. He fell back into the pillows with an exhausted sigh, not caring that his pelvis was still exposed, his creamy flesh and flaccid member illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through Ororo’s skylight. He thanked any god or angels listening that his Stormy hadn’t come back and caught him in such a delicate condition.

It took a few moments for his breathing to regulate and slow and for the dizziness to pass. The ceiling still seemed to spin when he closed his eyes.

“That all ya’ve been doin’ since ya left me ta wake up alone in that cold little dump?” Remy’s eyes flew open, landing on the dark, shadowy figure leaning in the doorway to Ororo’s loft. Logan folded his arms across his burly chest and sighed.

“I wanna say ‘welcome home,’ Cajun, but yer gonna hafta make up yer mind if this is home or not.”

 


	2. Caught in the Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan’s POV to what he found, and the resulting emotions they finally share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a total cheeseball. Hate if you want. :p

Caught in the Act

Summary: Logan’s POV to what he found, and the resulting emotions they finally share.

“Shit!” Remy hissed as he fumbled madly with the covers to shield the evidence of his dreams. He was still sticky, and his cheeks flushed darkly with the shame of Logan’s discovery. Blood rushed down from his head suddenly, making him dizzy, and he pitched forward with the effort to recover himself.

“Hey…kid! Kid! REM!” Logan grumbled as he hurried over, abandoning his perch in Ororo’s doorway.

“Merde…how long y’been dere?”

“Long enough. Heard more’n I thought I would when I headed up here, Cajun. Was downstairs, fixin’ myself a drink,” he explained hollowly, and Remy’s nose twitched at the scent of whiskey and cigars that permeated his pores, at once familiar and strangely comforting. “Headed back down to the security monitors ta set ‘em on standby, and I saw the north cam black out.”

“Den what?”

“Did a walkabout outside. Caught yer scent. Wuz gonna check with ‘Ro ta see if she knew ya were here. But she ain’t here now.” The corners of his mouth tightened and his fists clenched in his lap as Logan sat on the edge of the bed, making it dip.

Something about Remy’s scent, mingled with Ororo’s as they wafted up from the sheets unnerved him and pissed him off. “What the fuck are ya doin’ up here?”

“Nut’in’,” Remy muttered, suppressing a yawn that escaped him anyway. His stretch was leonine and rich with interrupted sleep. His limbs were graceful and rippling with lean muscle from years of martials arts training and simple living. Remy had a fast metabolism and a taste for fine food that didn’t harm his finely sculpted body. The occasional glass of bourbon was his favorite indulgence (barring an all-night binge, on those nights where he needed it), but he was willing to replace it with something more satisfying, packaged in the form of the irritated yet sexy Canadian staring him down in the dark.

“Ya get lost on yer way inside?” Logan sneered.

“Non. Ya found me jus’ fine, mec,” he offered casually, yawning one more time for good measure. His red on black eyes were drowsy and glowed steadily back at him, then slowly ate him up from head to toe. He knew Logan smelled his tension from a mile away, but he continued his ruse.

“Why ya lookin’ at me like that, bub?” He knew why.

“Remy might ask ya de same, cher.”

He felt the pull of Logan’s emotions, luring him like a siren’s song. He wanted to bask in their heat like a lazy cat, but he knew this wasn’t the time for his own gratification.

“Sonofabitch,” Logan grumbled, shaking his head and plowing his hand through his coarse, thick waves. He closed his eyes against revealing too much, too soon and leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Whaddya want me ta do, Rem? Whaddya want me ta say?”

“Ya don’ hafta say anytin’ yet, homme.”

“Ya don’t know…” Logan bit back the rest, letting his lips tighten into a firm, white line. His body thrummed with tension, and he was still distracted by the sight of Remy, looking rumpled and disheveled, even _well fucked_ within the tangle of Ororo’s sweet-smelling sheets. Her bed now held Remy’s essence, too, but Logan fought against hauling him out of the bed and dragging him downstairs.

His bed was bigger than Ororo’s. Lonelier, too.

“What, homme? What don’ Remy know?”

“Do ya hafta ask?” Logan changed from hanging onto his patience by his fingernails to blunt frustration. “Do ya know how fuckin’ worried I was, wonderin’ what happened to ya, Rem? Ya just ran off into the friggin’ cold again, with hardly any fuckin’ shelter fer miles? I didn’t know if ya had any money, or where ya were gonna get yer next meal? Ya didn’t leave any word of where ya were goin’, in case ya got lost, or hurt? By the time I woke up and went ta look fer yer sorry hide, yer scent was cold!” Logan’s anger grew incrementally with each word, and he was back up off the bed, pacing. He resembled a restless lion, his thick hair tousled and bristling, completing the image. He threw his hands out wide. “That what ya wanted ta know?”

“Naw.” Remy shook his head and sighed in resignation. He was still processing Logan’s emotions, anger central among them all. It stung, but it was a good pain, feeling him. Hearing him, both his voice and his psychic essence. He’d missed that low, scratchy burr in his deep voice. The faint light shining in from Ororo’s skylight window painted his body, picking out his sleek muscles in stark relief and illuminating his dark eyes. Logan stood there in his boxers and a wifebeater tank, a plain white one; Remy knew he’d covered himself out of courtesy to anyone lurking in the hallway for a midnight snack or a pit stop. His eyes hungered for the sight of him bare, mentally undressing him where he stood.

His body was inviting, but his lips were a tightly drawn line.

“Fuck!” Logan ranted, louder this time. “That all ya got ta say??”

“Non. Jes’ dat it ain’ what Remy wanted t’know. Remy wanna know if ya missed him, cher.” Remy kept the covers balled in his lap to keep them both focused on their confrontation, and to hide the spark of life that was resurfacing in his manhood. Logan’s nostrils flared, as though he, too, noticed the shift in his body and body language.

“Don’t get cute, Cajun.”

“Remy ain’t, unless y’wan’ him to.” Logan sputtered out an exasperated breath.

“Yer killin’ me. First, I got out ta find ya, because again, Rem, everyone here’s been worried sick about ya fer a while, even Rogue. She had a right t’do what she did, but she’s been eaten up with guilt about it because she loved ya so much. I hear her cryin’ at night. If yer gonna show yer face here, Rem, yer gonna hafta show it ta her soon. If she spits in it, take it.” Remy blanched.

“Second, ya tease ‘Ro with word that ya might come back. SHE goes out an’ tries ta bring ya home, but ya leave her ta come back empty-handed, just ta show us that ya don’t really wanna make amends, after all, ta the school, Rogue, ‘Ro, or anyone else.” He didn’t include himself on the list, something Remy didn’t miss.

“THEN ya finally come home, and ya hole up an’ hide in here.”

“Stormy said it wuz okay.”

“What’d ya expect her ta say? She loves ya, warts an’ all. You and yer dirty drawers,” Logan shrugged, retreating behind his walls and dampening Remy’s link with his emotions. He threw up one meaty hand and let it hit his thigh with a sharp slap. “Don’t keep givin’ us mixed messages an’ bullshit.”

“What if Remy wants t’stay?”

“Ya want me ta slay a fuckin’ fatted calf? Announce it with bells on?”

“ _Desole, cher._ Fo’ ev’ryt’in. S’what’m tryin’ t’say.” Remy swallowed around a dry lump in his throat. His red eyes glowed with feeling as he hugged his knees. He laid himself bare, dropping all subterfuge and coyness. “Hurt, when Remy left ya. Knew ya’d hate it, an’ hate Remy. Knew ya didn’ deserve dat. Jes’…didn’ know where t’go from dere, mec. Scared shitless. Confused. Afraid dat…” He clenched his fists and looked away, swallowing again. His chest constricted as he tried to master himself. He hated showing weakness, and it was unthinkable to do so in front of this man.

Logan had seen him at his most vulnerable. Brought to his knees and with his heart bleeding. It couldn’t happen again. It just…couldn’t.

He was inches away from losing him.

“But ya left anyway,” Logan snapped.

“ _Oui._ ” Remy closed his eyes and combed his fingers through his hair, clutching it.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. He turned his back for a moment, suddenly making Remy panic that he was leaving. He started to fumble with the covers to adjust himself, and he untangled one long leg before Logan turned his head over his shoulder a moment, barely allowing Remy to see his strong, blunt profile. His back was broad, tapering down to a firm waist and narrow hips. Remy’s fingers itched to touch it, to trace the outline of each muscle and bump of his spine, but he pushed back his yearning, knowing Logan could smell it on him. Lust, and the remainder of his seed drying on his belly and thighs.

“It was just me this time, Cajun. Who ya gonna leave next? How many folks are ya gonna hurt the next time? I know it’s been hard. Sucks havin’ deaths on yer conscience. S’like goin’ ta hell every night as soon as ya close yer eyes, knowin’ it’s a repeat round trip. Yer done playin’ the Judas, Rem, that much I already know. Saw how it tore ya up, an’ how it still is, rememberin’ what happened in those tunnels. I know yer sorry. And…” he hesitated.

“An’ what, homme?” He waited with bated breath for a response from the feral. Logan had narrowed their empathic link to a mere pinpoint of light. Remy grasped and groped for it helplessly, hopefully, needing it more than air.

“I hated seein’ ya like that. Bleedin’. Broken. Needin’ someone but forcin’ yerself ta be alone.” He’d slowly turned around to face him fully. His stance was open and less tense, but his face…Dieu, his face. It was sad, and raw, and full of concern and unstifled anguish. “God, Rem…I know why ya left. I can’t stand here an’ ask why, when I know, but that didn’t mean I was okay with it. Not after what happened. Not after what we did…” Tears threatened the back of Remy’s eyes, and he blinked furiously to fan them away. Logan heard his breathing quicken, breaking from his narrow ribcage in harsh pants. “Ya left me, without so much as a word, after what we did. So…how…d’ya think…I’m s’posed ta feel?”

“Pot callin’ de kettle black, if ya wan’ talk ‘bout leavin’ ev’ry’tin behind, cher,” Remy murmured, his voice low and thick. “Remy’s watched y’leave befo’.”

“I’ve never left _you_. There’s a big fuckin’ difference, darlin’,” Logan grated out. His fists were clenching and unclenching. “I never…let ya have so fuckin’ much of myself, damn it, and then took off! Took it all away. Ya took it all away…” Logan’s voice died.

A lone, silver tear streaked down Remy’s cheek, but he stayed silent, digesting the truth and reeling from it.

“Aw, God,” he whispered. Logan’s lips worked; Remy could tell he was biting back more damning, useless words, but it was too late. 

The floodgates opened and assaulted Remy in a rush, pulling Logan into the pool with him. Remy’s breath stopped for one long, aching moment, and he saw Logan stagger from the impact.

So much hurt! Remy drowned in those feelings of betrayal and need, doubt and anguish that Logan had been simmering in those past few weeks. The only thing that saved him, that was his life raft, was hope. Hope that he would return, tempered with tenderness. Remembered passion. And patience. Patience the feral had learned from too long of a lifetime, despite the restlessness that many felt characterized him and summed him up too easily.

And between them sprang joy, golden and blindingly bright. Relief. Solace and reassurance.

“Ya took it all away,” Logan repeated, as though in a trance. “Ya made me feel like it was because of me. Thought I drove ya away, from whatever ya saw in my head when we…y’know,” he offered, waving a hand in a familiar gesture for Remy to understand him. Remy mutely shook his head in protest, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Ain’t many people who can deal with what’s in my head. Why d’ya think…I’m always so fuckin’ alone? Huh?” He watched the slow rise and fall of Remy’s chest, focusing on it, and the other workings of Remy’s body and the emotions on his face. Remy stubbornly wiped away the tear streak, hating it. Logan could hear his pulse and smell the changes in him, confirmed by the determination in his eyes.

“Ya don’ hafta be alone, an’ Remy ain’ afraid of what’s in yo’ head, cher. Only t’in Remy’s ‘fraid of right now is walkin’ ya walk out dat do’, even if Remy deserves it. Done ya wrong, cher. Real wrong.” Remy succeeded in putting his boxers back where they belonged and finally rose from the bed. He moved with easy grace and approached him, less plaintive, more confident.

“Ya have any idea how hard it is ta get close ta anyone fer me? Knowin’ I could lose ‘em, or that I scare ‘em shitless half the time?”

“Ya nevah scared ol’ Remy,” he boasted, but there was no cockiness in his tone. “Evah, cher. Still don’ scare him, unless, like we talked ‘bout earlier, ya walk out on me right now.”

There was an undercurrent of energy between them full of desperation and need. Remy was enveloped in Logan’s fierce longing, and he felt it just as keenly. Their breathing adapted the same rhythm, their hearts, the same beat.

“Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again,” Logan growled. His scowl would have scared the boogey man, but his body still inclined itself toward him, like a tree leaning toward the sun.

“Ain’ got no reason t’be scared. M’right here. Ain’ goin’ nowhere. Not wit’ you right here, cher.” The loft around them fell away. The shadow that bathed them both lost its oppressiveness, instead offering them shelter as Remy reached out one long, slender hand for Logan’s. He collected his fist and unballed it, feeling the tension thrum and jump in Logan’s veins. Logan shuddered and closed his eyes, opening himself to his touch, both psychic and physical.

He craved it.

Remy’s scent, so near and so tempting, was driving him nuts. His skin was still warm from his time between the sheets, and his body beckoned to him to drag him right back and covet it for himself, greedily, endlessly…

“Rem…” Remy didn’t let go of him, and he didn’t try to pull away. His red-on-black eyes were liquid and brilliant as he slowly eased Logan’s palm against his chest, urging him to stroke the supple flesh through his soft tank.

Remy’s heartbeat resonated through his flesh. Electricity jolted through him, waking up every nerve in his body; whether that reaction was from his charm, simple lust or some hidden benefit of his kinetic power, Logan didn’t have a clue, and didn’t give a fuck either way.

“Wan’ you, cher. Right here. Right now.” Logan sucked in a breath and closed his eyes once again, hiding their beauty. His fingers flexed convulsively against Remy’s chest, and he balled up the neckline of the flimsy material instinctively, unable to control the urge any longer…

“Right now,” Logan informed him roughly, “but not fuckin’ right here!” Ororo’s lingering scent and the aroma of her plants was a frustrating counterpoint to Remy’s signature smell. The scamp’s own flavors were tangy and succulent, unembellished by cologne with the exception of whatever soap he used to clean himself with.

One brawny arm, heavily roped with muscle, snaked out before Remy could even blink and wrapped itself around his waist. Logan jerked him flush against his body, released his shirt and grasped the scruff of Remy’s neck, dragging him down for a punishing kiss. Remy’s gasp and exclamation of surprise was cut off; all he could do was moan as Logan ravished his mouth as the kiss turned molten and hot.

He decided he didn’t mind.

That’s what was missing from his dream. The kiss. It would’ve been perfect with the kiss.

Remy’s knees buckled in rapture and breathlessness as Logan had his way. Rough fingers clutched his hair, savoring its gossamer texture and soft waves, the blunt fingernails gently scraping his scalp. Remy clung to him, hands stroking that hard back as he’d longed to do, cupping that face to feel the brisk rasp of Logan’s whiskers. His stubble enflamed his flesh wherever it touched, and it began to touch him everywhere.

It was over too soon.

“C’mon,” Logan ordered, breaking the kiss and leaving him baffled and far too aroused.

“Neh?” Remy mumbled, almost dizzy but willing to do whatever Logan and his little heart desired.

“Out. Now. With me.” His hand looped around Remy’s arm in an implacable grip and hauled him toward the door of the loft.

“Easy, cher!”

“YOU take it easy! Yer drivin’ me nuts!” Together they stumbled down the stairs, Remy nearly tripping over Logan’s heels. He stifled a laugh at Logan’s consternation, and his insistence.

There was just…something, about being wanted so much, by someone who was so determined to never want or need anybody.

Logan stalked to his bedroom door with Remy in tow and kicked it open, thankful that they didn’t pass anyone in the hallway.

“In!” he barked in a low voice, sending a shiver up Remy’s spine. He thrust him in before turning back to the door and shoving it shut, turning the lock with a sharp click. Remy’s breathing was stertorous as he watched Logan, only taking a scant glance at his surroundings. 

The room smelled like him, and like a vestige of cigar smoke and Jack Daniels. It was sparely furnished. A gleaming katana hung from a shelf on the wall, as well as a large, beautiful fan. Only a handful of framed photographs hung from the wall. Remy didn’t pause to see who they were of; all he wanted to see up close was his lover.

_His lover._

“Don’ be bashful, mon ami,” Remy drawled wickedly. His smile held mischief and dark promise. He crooked his finger and waggled it toward him. “C’mere, cher.”

All he remembered was Logan’s answering growl and being stalked like he was the Wolverine’s dinner before he was knocked off his feet. Logan was the only person walking on two legs who’d ever gotten the jump on Gambit before.

He accidentally bit his tongue when Logan launched them both back onto his king-sized bed. Remy knew Logan wasn’t a light, easy sleeper and that he needed room despite his short stature. Logan resumed what they started in the loft, attacking his mouth and letting their groans mingle. The luscious heft of his body pinned Remy to the mattress. The sheets felt cool at his back, and he longed for every inch of his bare skin to wallow in them once he worked off his clothes. 

Logan didn’t make him wait. His fingers were tearing and snatching at the boxers, chucking them on the floor, and he savagely whipped off his tank, the neckline gently abrading Remy’s chin as it was yanked over his head. The motion made his hair crackle with faint static. The cool air of Logan’s bedroom kissed his now naked flesh, but was driven away by Logan’s body heat. Remy longed for him.

“Please, cher!” he moaned. “Wan’ y’so bad.”

“I don’t believe ya,” Logan rumbled into his throat, nipping it with the hard press of his lips.

“Can’t y’feel me, cher?” Remy bucked up against him, thrusting up his now raging erection for Logan’s inspection to convince him. He practically rode his thigh in the attempt to get closer. He finally found him, just as hard, throbbing and thrusting back. 

Remy stroked him greedily while Logan’s mouth explored him in leisure. His own fingers found purchase in the hem of Logan’s tank and stripped it from him, revealing the rough-hewn grace of his body.

“ _Dieu,”_ he muttered. Logan was indescribable. His body appeared sculpted out of granite, generously muscled without resembling a tree trunk. Remy wanted to touch him everywhere, from his pecs to his taut, rippling abdomen that jumped when he grazed it with his fingertips. He savored the brush of Logan’s crisp hair that sprouted over his torso, rasping against him and stimulating his skin. It was marvelous. Their hands bumped in their combined zeal to relieve Logan of his boxers.

It wasn’t a pretty mating. Teeth bit, lips suckled hard and hands gripped, probed and tugged. One moment Logan was on top; the next Remy covered him and kissed scorching trails down his body, zeroing in on Logan’s hot, stiff flesh.

“Holy!” Logan’s eyes snapped open wide as Remy slid between his splayed legs, nosing at his flesh through the coarse nest of black curls and then engulfed him. “FUCK!” Remy groaned in contentment around his cock and nodded. 

That was his intention.

His flesh felt silky smooth and hard as a rock in his mouth. He shunted over it eagerly, devouring him as he stroked the supple curves of his inner thighs, teasing the undersides of his balls. Logan’s hips rocked in an effort to get closer, to sink further into that luscious heat. Oh, how he’d missed this.

“Remy,” he chanted mindlessly, foregoing his usual nicknames for him, basking in the reality of him, in his bed, pleasuring him until he couldn’t think straight. Logan’s hands fisted in the pillow and he writhed against him, his mouth, wrapped his legs around him and crossed his ankles against his lean, smooth back. Remy’s eyes were closed in rapture, and his groans resonated through him. His face was beautiful like that, cheeks gently drawn in with each suck, his chiseled lips pursed snugly around his prize. Remy drank in his affection and wonder as the flat of his tongue stroked Logan’s shaft, and he felt his fingers work their way into his hair again, clutching him close. He shared every sensation that rocked him, claiming some for his own. It drugged him.

He paused a moment, relaxing in the nook of his lover’s legs and stroking his abdomen. “Wanna hear ya come, cher. Long an’ hard. Remy loves hearin’ ya come fo’ him.” He lipped the plump, engorged head of his cock, breathing over its slick dampness before he engulfed it again.

“Aw, God! S’good, darlin’!” Logan choked out sounds of desire and need as Remy’s head swiveled and dipped around him in a spiral or two, taking him deeply enough for his lips to graze the base of his shaft; the head pressed and buffeted the roof of his mouth and pushed at the threshold of his throat. Remy exerted the effort to swallow him, taking a hint of his salty essence with him.

He gave another maddening pause, this time only sliding off him and murmuring around his length. “Come fo’ Remy, cher.”

“Not. Without. You,” Logan hissed. “Bring that ass up here!” Logan moved faster than he anticipated, which was a wonder after Remy nearly turned his legs to jelly. Logan leaned up and groped for him, strong hands clamping around his limbs, pushing him back and pulling him where he wanted until they were each facing the other’s cock. Logan pried Remy’s thighs apart and took his cock into his mouth. Remy’s shocked gasps mingled with the needy, throaty sounds Logan made around him. He bucked into his mouth, and slowly their bodies adapted to a shared rhythm, rocking together as they lay on their sides in a snug sixty-nine. They fit together like puzzle pieces, like yin and yang, so much in sync that they were of the same flesh.

Their sounds of pleasure grew in volume and length as they strained against each other and bucked and plunged. Pressure roared through Remy and pooled between his legs. He was going to come, hard, and he sensed that Logan was close. He felt the echo of Logan’s arousal and anticipation that yes, he too, was nearing his completion. Logan sensed his desperation, even frustration as he struggled not to lose it first.

“Let it go, darlin’.” Logan’s breath steamed over him before he settled over him again, milking him. Remy’s thighs flexed around him, threatening to crack him like a walnut, but it was just so good as Logan shunted over him faster, harder, pushing him over the precipice.

Logan’s flesh popped free from Remy’s mouth as he climaxed, bucking and writhing with the pleasure that rippled through his body. He heard Logan swallow his essence down, and his worries about reaching fulfillment first faded away. Logan indulgently, slowly licked him clean. He kissed Remy’s thigh as he untangled them. Logan righted himself and eased his body along Remy’s. Remy’s flesh was still overstimulated, and it jumped at the tender caress of Logan’s fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles.

“Wanted t’hear y’come, cher.” There was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but Logan radiated contentment, and it reassured him.

“Ya will. And I wanna see ya when I do.” His erection was still raging and craving shelter in Remy’s body, but he hovered over Remy, leaning down to soul-kiss him one more time. Remy sighed into his mouth before Logan broke away to ease him onto his back. He surprised him by easing off the bed; the mattress sprung back from his weight. Remy looked up, confused and bereft.

“C’mon back!” he protested weakly.

“In a sec,” he grunted back. He heard Logan scrambling and cursing in the dark as he strode into the adjoining bathroom, followed by the swish and slam of a medicine cabinet door. He was back in a flash, joining him once more.

Remy watched his silhouette in the dark, fiddling with a small container in his hands as he flipped open the top. The spurt of something wet, followed by the slick sounds of something wet rubbed against flesh piqued him. Logan nudged his thighs apart and settled himself between them, and his pelvis jumped in surprise as his cool, slippery fingers probed him.

“Yer perfect,” Logan groaned, loving the snug press of Remy’s flesh clenching around him. His fingers thrust into him, priming and stroking him. Remy’s body was pliant and ready for him, and neither of them could wait. Logan gripped and lifted his narrow hips and pushed against the tight, sweet pucker of Remy’s ass and thrust himself inside.

Logan was done with words. He lost himself in the sensations coursing through him and the glove-tight rim of flesh flexing around him as Remy’s features twisted in ecstasy. Remy’s face lost in passion was an erotic sight, a principal benefit of the position he chose. Logan’s hands skimmed over him, kneading his muscles and cock that was jerking and spasming back to life. Logan was engorged and wonderfully thick, stretching and filling him as he rode him. The taut tendons and cords of muscle in his neck strained, and Remy watched him grimace a bit with his efforts. 

His body was a work of art, every muscle hard and rippling as he pistoned in and out. His fingers dug into his thighs and kneaded them. Logan felt a throbbing, sweet ache in his lower back from his exertions, but it was sooooooo gooooooooood…

There it was. That friction, that rush of tingles that swept over his skin. His sac was drawn up painfully tight, and he felt the cramp of his swollen dick, the slight spasm before Remy flexed around him again, pulling what he wanted from him…

He erupted in hot, thick spurts, his hips slamming into Remy of their own accord, reflexively, as though his body wouldn’t listen to his mind’s commands anymore. Those tremors and resulting thrusts rocked his partner, and he curled his hand around his cock, pumping him. Logan felt a sense of triumph and pride as Remy came again, this time dribbling cream over his fist.

Minutes later they lay tangled together. Remy was on his back, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully while Logan’s body was curled around his, his head resting on his shoulder. His thick waves of hair tickled Remy’s lips, and his arm was thrown over his waist, joined by the thigh he hooked over his leg.

“Can’t move,” Remy murmured. His smile was blissful.

“Ain’t gonna let ya anyway,” Logan informed him gruffly. Brat. His arm tightened around him when Remy nuzzled him, kissing the bridge of his nose.

“Have it your way, chere,” he shrugged, smothering a chuckle. Logan’s own eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I mean it, though,” Logan mused. “Don’t leave me.” Remy’s handsomeness was marred slightly by a scowl.

“M’tellin’ ya right now,” he replied, “m’gonna be right here when ya wake up dis mo’nin’. An’ anudda, ‘ting, chere…ya betta sleep well now.” Logan grunted at his. Remy chuckled.

When dawn broke, and the first light of morning broke through Logan’s window, he woke up to Remy’s radiant face and joyously realized that the Cajun kept his word.


End file.
